Explosion
by Her Name Is Erika
Summary: And then I heard it – the deafening sound of a self induced explosion, and saw my perfect world shattering all around me. QuinnLogan. QuinnVince.


**A/N: Okay, I've listened to all of the sad songs I could. So, get ready for angst galore. This was inspired by a fic called "Illusion & Lies". Go read that and drop reviews on that. It's quite interesting, and besides, I've be itching to write some Quinn/Vince for a couple of weeks now. So, thank you, Maddie for getting the ball rolling and kicking my butt in gear. **

**Disclaimer: No. This is just an attempt at corrupting the show since I'm in that type of mood. The plot isn't mine either. That belongs to Miss Maddie ;). She just gave me the green light to take it and run with it, lol.**

**Background Music: "I Can't Stay Away" by The Veronicas. This will definitely set the tone. Seriously, go find the song and listen. **

* * *

My heart was racing.

My hands were perspiring, making then feel clammy.

My stomach had that overwhelming feeling of nausea, and suppressing it with every fiber of my being was getting tedious and proving to be quite futile.

My face was undoubtedly flushed, but I was grateful for the cover of nightfall and there wasn't a star in the sky, just an endlessly black sky. I was grateful for the cover of nightfall; however, no one would see what was really on my face – the truth. One would think I was experiencing these things because of endorphins – the chemical source of contentment and happiness.

But no. It was the contrary. No, I wasn't happy at all.

In fact, I was fearful, scared and terrified. All of the synonyms in the world would be able to accurate describe the feelings I got when I went on my secret encounters with Vince Blake.

I had a boyfriend whom I loved very much and the feelings were quite mutual.

So, why did I subject myself to this crossfire even though I was independent and had moral standards, separating right and wrong?

For once in my entire life, I had no solution. And realizing that only added to my existent terror.

* * *

It was a carefully lit fuse.

It had started innocently, I can assure you. After all, he was dating my best friend, and Logan got along with him best, so how could I not be on friendly terms with him?

He changed. He was nice now. He was charitable, and I was happy to see Lola smile and laugh when he was in our company, teasing them about the PDA and all. It was all in the good, friendly humor and I had learned how to tune out Logan and Lola's notorious and spontaneous fighting and just accept it as the status quo.

But the stolen stares across the lunch table, the arm brushings in English were trivial.

The action that reciprocated wasn't. Why did my brain tell the nerves on face to react in a small smile?

Why the name of everything aligned and accurate was I smiling?!

I wasn't attracted to Vince at all. I couldn't be for my heart belonged to Logan. I loved Logan. I meant that when I proclaimed it with the entire student body eyed me with prying, and I meant it when it was secret. I meant every passionate kiss, every warm hug, every gentle hold on my hand, every comforting arm around my shoulders. I meant _everything_.

I still did. Believe me. I still did.

My kisses with Vince were laced with frustration and anger. I was furious with him for doing this do to me. And I was furious with myself for not being my usual independent self, and enabling it. I was furious for giving Vince that power to sway me, to kiss me, to touch me while I reacted and my moans were snatched and left tied to the branches of a weeping willow.

The irony was blindingly obvious behind that tree because I cried it began, I cried when it was happening, and I cried outwardly when it was over.

And I was even thrown even more into a deep spiral of self-loathing because I was hurting Logan.

I was hurting him, and I felt my stomach churn when I kissed him, and hid everything behind a smile and a kiss.

I loved Logan. Not Vince. I couldn't be attracted to Vince, even though I was starting to hate the irritating manipulation and magnetized force between us.

This _had_ to stop.

* * *

"We have to stop this, Vince. This is wrong and I'm sorry I let it go on for as long as it did."

There was silence, as I watched Vince's form lean against the back of the tree. He merely looked at me, his eyes dark and gleaming with something unsettling. He broke out into that smirk, like he was sure of everything. Like it was engraved, and written in stone that it had to turn out in his favour.

He merely laughed like it was like a silly little game, while I worried everyday about the quite dangerous outcome. It wasn't worth it, losing my best friend, and my wonderful boyfriend in the process. Growing frustrated at his nonchalance, I grew angry for the first time in a while. In fact, I was furious and could feel my cheeks being splotched with red in the form of an angry blush. It stirred in my stomach quite forcefully, before everything just clicked into place, like a game of Tetris.

"You never really changed, did you?" I hissed, with narrowed eyes, and a certain degree of disgust permeating from me. "Chase never trusted you, and we all defended you. We all berated him, and told him he was behaving irrationally. It was all a façade, wasn't it?"

"I wasn't surprised when Zoey basically got suckered in by gummy bears, but not you. I thought you were smarter than that."

Chase was right. He was right, while the rest of us basically fell into Vince's façade. And he snagged Lola's heart while he sadistically twisted me, changed me into one of those girls.

What was happening to me? Now that I thought about it, Vince was correct in that statement and that alone. I should have been smarter, rather than succumb to the temptation of multicolored gummy bears. I liked them. Immensely. But even so, I should have.

I wasn't seeing Lola's boyfriend, the reformed gentle guy. His façade peeled right before my eyes, and the football player who beat up three of our guy friends. And my ex-boyfriend but that wasn't relevant. What was relevant, however, was the transformation that happened right before my very eyes. Angry tears sprang to my eyes and I felt my fingers clench into a fist.

"You're a _despicable_ person," I spat, looking in his eyes. "Do you not love Lola at all?"

"Yes, I love her like I love my football trophies. New and shiny, and nice to carry around," he replied, with a smile that was supposed to be gentle and reassuring but only amplified my rage. I had no right to lay all of the blame with him. It was my fault too, but for him for talk about my best friend in that way was too much. I had a part in this intricately tangled web, and all of the elaborate mazes constructed couldn't get me out of this one. "But you, Quinn, we have something. There's something between us."

His touch was freezing, and chilly. And I just wanted to be warm. I just wanted to be able to feel the warmth I knew Logan could give me.

I closed my eyes and envisioned it: Logan touching me gently in that way, his arms around me, his soft lips pressed against mine as I combed my slender fingers through his sandy brown curls, contentment and warmth all around us.

Just Logan & Quinn. Just Quinn & Logan. Just us.

And the cruel fate showed up in the form of a bitterly cold wind that splayed all of my bare arms and caused goosebumps to form underneath my skin and show up everywhere. It forced me to remember where I was: not in my boyfriend's arms where I wanted to be, but here cursing myself for being forgetful of my zap watch and with Vince Blake. See, this just proved that I was so mentally scrambled I forgot the only tangible weapon I had, my other being my independence and strong willed.

"No," I firmly stated, pulling from his grasp. "We have nothing. I _love_ Logan."

"But you're attracted to me."

"Absolutely not!"

"Okay, I'll humour you," Vince answered, and then he whispered, bringing his mouth close to my ear. His breath caressed my ear and sent a painfully cold and sharp shiver down by shine. Again, Vince Blake managed to steal what wasn't his, and my very breath was included in that hazy mix of confusion and frustration. "You'll be back."

Only after his form left did I realize my palms had white half moon imprints, and the tears were clear and heading downward from my eyes.

And I released the breath I had been holding in for so long.

"You really expect me to believe that Vince Blake comes back and is suddenly a saint?" Chase questioned, as the six of us assembled in our dorm. It was habitual for us to assemble in between the two dorms, but never all six of us in one place. When something like that happened, the tension was apparently very thick and it was serious. Now at the beginning of Senior Year, it was definitely one of those things.

"Dude," Michael called out to his best friend, being the voice of reason and Zoey being the pacifier of sorts. Lola, Logan and I were just exasperated and wanted this to be over. "Look, Vince is cool. And he's going to have to hang with us a lot more since he's with Lola now."

"Yeah," his gaze totally circumvented Michael and his green eyes met Lola's brown ones. "And why is that?"

"Because we like each other," my best friend replied, with a loose shrug. "That's what people do when they like each other. You and Zoey did it. Logan and Quinn did it. Michael and Lisa did it. Chase, Vince is a nice guy now. Really. I know what I'm doing."

"I'm sure, Lola."

It was in that sarcastic tone. And it made Lola sort of frown, because it looked like Chase didn't only trust Vince, but our decision to be friends with him as well.

"Man, give it a rest!" Logan cut in, with a roll of his eyes. "If anyone should a problem with forgiveness, it should be me. So, leave the grudges to me and leave this alone. What? Is Vince a secret serial killer too?"

"Wouldn't put it past him. Putting myself in a tank of piranhas is safer."

We groaned simultaneously, while Michael added, "Now, you're just being crazy about this!"

"And you're being irrational," I put in, logically. "It's the first week of Senior Year. I think the best solution is to calm down to give way to actual reasoning."

"And when Vince gets to _Quinn_, there's a problem," Chase blew out a big breath, and ran a hand through his famous bush of hair. "Okay, I'm going to go for a walk. And preferably, a javaccino to go with it. I need the caffeine to help me understand. So, call up your buddy Vince Blake and I'm out."

"Chase, wait!" Zoey called after Chase's retreating form, and she only left to talk to him when none of us could.

Going back into the present and thinking about this deeply, Chase was right.

* * *

The fuse was hissing loud and long, slowly crossing the detonation point when Lola actually confided in me about her troubles.

"Quinn, I don't know what to do with Vince anymore. He's blowing me off all the time, and I don't know why," she explained to me, her voice borderline frustrated and angry. And I'd seen the potential of Lola's rage. What was I supposed to say? That everything would be okay, and tell her that the male mind was complex and stress-inducing to actually decode and understand?

Or could I tell her that I was secretly kissing her boyfriend at night, and secretly hiding text messages from him when it got so overwhelming? No, I couldn't risk it, and my intuition told me that Lola wouldn't stop me from drinking all of the grotesque saliva-tainted, backwashed Blix in the world.

Guilt overwhelmed me, and I forced my eyes to go back to the laser I had taken apart only to put it together slowly so my mind just preoccupied. Now, to re-wire this circuit and take a while doing it.

"I don't know, Lola. The male mind is difficult. Even for me sometimes."

And it was the truth.

"Yeah, and boys are icky too," my best friend answered, with a sigh and planted herself on Zoey's single bed. "So, where were you yesterday?"

Yesterday. Oh, how I tried to forget about yesterday. But Lola made me remember indirectly.

My throat was unbelievably dry and I forced a reassuring smile, "I was around. You know, engulfing myself in one of those really lengthy experiments, you probably don't want to know about."

"You're right. I don't want to know," Lola replied, typically. After all, she didn't like to read or put in any real effort. This theory was disproved only when it pertained to anything in the arts, like a play. Only then, did she pour her everything into it and it showed. Grabbing her tote bag, she slipped sandals on her feet. "I'm strangely craving a low-fat chocolate-covered pretzel, so I'm outtie."

"Have fun."

Smiling brightly, she answered, "Oh. I will. Me, my pretzel and I."

I wished I could only apologize after putting a knife to her back, and twisting it to make it even worse. I'm so sorry, Lola.

I crossed the wrong wires, and a shooting, small pain was sent to my finger.

That was no coincidence. Not in the slightest.

* * *

I was intrigued by Logan as whole person. He was a complex person underneath his egocentric surface and carried all of these ambitions and aspirations for himself. He had all of these qualities that made him appreciate him and love him, but I was definitely awed by his sense of perception.

I realized it had all been there, but it got sharper and more acute with every day that passed.

I was awed, but it terrified me at the same time. He wasn't stupid by any means, but he just never applied himself.

The days were getting quicker, I found myself disappearing more and more often, and the fuse getting dangerously close to shatter the perfectly constructed world I had wanted to held on to with all of my might. I was sure he knew.

I knew Logan knew, even though he was kissing me, making me feel warm again.

And I didn't want that to end for fear it would be the last. I could see the imaginary looks of disdain and I agree with them, I could have stopped. I could have stopped. My encounters with Vince weren't planned by my logic in dealing with it was. And if everyone who knew me, knew had a meticulous, almost technological method to plan everything. This was no different. I was going to just deal with Vince once, and then stop, and live my life with moral standards. That, coupled with the company of my friends and life would just run like clockwork.

Obviously, this went horribly wrong. When anything I planned went wrong, it was dangerous.

The danger factor exceeded some of the Quinnventions I had yet to sort.

Pulling away, Logan gently held my hand, intertwining the ten fingers between us in a pattern of his tanned hand cradled in my small one.

"Look, I gotta talk to you about something," he told me, looking me in the eyes directly. It was like he was looking past me, and not just using my eyes as a mirror-induced reflection. Logan wouldn't outwardly admit it, but I had suspicions. His tone had a disgruntled, yet serious tone to it, and it made me almost cringe on the inside quite badly. "I don't know because it's not like I actually hate Lola. I know I get my kicks out of annoying her the most, but maybe Chase isn't just drunk of caffeine."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I've been getting this," he stopped, and sighed. "You know, you girls get your Intuition or whatever it is, well, I've been getting this thing in the middle of my gut. I may argue with Lola every day, but I feel protective of her. It's been that way for a couple of days now. I feel the need to protect her, and it's been bothering me, so did she tell you anything about Vince or something?"

"Only that," I slightly paused, taking a split second to gaze at how intertwined our hands were. It gave me comfort, but that comfort and everything would completely blow up in my face. God, and it was sad I tied myself to that wooden stake, poured the gas around my feet, and allowed the flames to engulf me. I swallowed hard, praying he didn't take notice. "…Vince was exhibiting strange behavior, and then she left for a pretzel. She hasn't confided that much since."

Oh, I bended the truth.

Lola confided in me, more than she did to Zoey. She confided in me, and spilled everything to me, pertaining to Vince and their relationship.

All the while, I was inwardly screaming begging her to stop, and spare me more searing guilt.

"Are you okay?"

"What?"

I said, are you okay, Quinn?"

His eyes were a deep, rich brown I could lose myself in even though that was incredibly cheesy and overused. His concern was sweet and made me feel so undeserving.

"Yes," I nodded my head, blinking the tears back. I was surprised at how normal my voice sounded. I pressed my lips to his cheek, and smiled a small smile. "I'm fine."

"Okay," he shrugged, and pecked my lips, standing and swung his bag strap over his shoulder casually when he was about to leave the lounge. "When you want to tell me what's bugging you, you know where to find me."

"I'll keep that in mind."

I sunk deeper into the couch, just waiting for when I would emulate Lady MacBeth and have hallucinations of my clean hands being stained with blood.

It made sense since I was stabling Lola in the back, and stabbing my amazing boyfriend in the front.

* * *

It was getting ready to detonate.

And I was getting ready to crumble, while Logan would discover what hid between the branches of that willow tree, and Lola would despise me, our group dynamic changing as we knew it.

Clearly, it was just a matter of minutes.

* * *

"I knew you'd come back."

"I hate this," I answered, hating the sensation of Vince's hands running up and down my arms. Again, I felt cold when it was a mild Friday evening. "And I hate _you_."

I wanted to be with Logan, cheering him on as he played Guitar Hero, and cheering him up when he pouted about his loss. I was to build another Quinnventions and do anything that held the status quo at Pacific Coast Academy. I never really hated anyone, and there wasn't anyone that had made me achieve this level of animosity. His lips on mine were rough, and I kissed back, hoping to cause him pain. Tears were streaming down my face at a quick velocity, sobs lodged in my throat as his arms felt like a death trap. And I did conclude death would be better than this.

I would have settled to ingest cyanide as an alternate.

I loved Logan. Logan. Logan. Logan. Logan. Logan.

I could hear it. The inevitable ticking, and the bomb counted down.

Then, I heard the unmistakable voice of Logan, no longer teasing and gentle, but bitter and furious.

"What the _hell_?!"

I was sort of thankful because he brought me back. That gave me the motivation to pull away from Vince and loosen his arm's tightly from my waist. But it was happening. It was as if Vince had faded into the background, while Logan and I connected eyes and I could feel the earth move beneath my wedged sandals. His eyes shifted for a second with sheer disgust toward Vince only made me acknowledge that his presence was still there, unfortunately.

"You," he hissed, dangerously low, gaze directed towards Vince. "Chase was right about you. You are _scum_."

Then Logan's eyes collided with mine, and I could say nothing. Would begging and pleading work? Would saying, "Baby, it's not what it looks like," save me from the hellfire brewing? No. It wouldn't. My eyes were shimmery with tears that had already stained my cheeks, and new ones falling down the apple of my cheeks and breaking off at my chin. We stared at each other for what seemed like forever.

His face remained stoic, his jaw set, but everything – every angry feeling he could feel, and everything I had been trying to avoid – displayed clearly in his eyes, the dark brown storm brewing quickly, and the flicker of silent questioning and heartbreak.

It was just us.

Logan & Quinn. Quinn & Logan – but not like this.

I watched his heart break and shatter right before my eyes.

"It's over, Quinn."

And then I heard it – the deafening sound of a self induced explosion, and saw my perfect world shattering all around me.

* * *

**A/N: And that, my friends, is over. That was from Quinn's POV. I was writing this in the dark to get a better handle on it, so I hope I did. This is thanks to Maddie, so seriously, go read her fic mentioned above if you haven't. I feel the need to shower and get bundled up in a blanket since it's snowing like crazy over here. So, review and give me your honest opinions. I love those. **

**This has been a Her Name Is The Lullaby Production. Lol. **

**I'm off to write my Rebecca centric one and finish All Year Round for Tuesday – which is QUOGAN DAY! I hope for a big turnout, so get creative everybody!**

**-Erika**


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